


Idle Worship

by Anjelle



Series: Other Worlds than These [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, Friendship, Gen, Modern AU Naruto, Not Canon Compliant, Out of Character Uzumaki Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: While most college students are spending their summer break home with their families, Naruto Uzumaki finds himself at the heart of a growing feud in a foreign world. He's not sure how he got there or why he's taken the place of his ninja alter-ego, weighed down by the expectations of a Konoha very different from his own. They tell him he's their jinchuuriki, but not what that means. But Naruto is nothing if not the optimist. He'll make the most of this world, one way or another.Even if everything is horribly, cripplingly wrong with it.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruto, Uzumaki Naruto & Yamato | Tenzou
Series: Other Worlds than These [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696783
Comments: 16
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of 2 stories in a new series I've started, Other Worlds than These. This one is a modernAU!Naruto story set in canon, while the second, Lines that Burn, is the opposite: canon!Naruto set in a modern AU world. I'll be posting the first chapter to THAT tomorrow!
> 
> I intended to keep these 2 stories under wraps until they're finished since they're going to be fairly short from the looks of it, but in light of everything going on in the world and most of us being cooped up indoors, trying not to get stir-crazy, I thought now was a good time to post it, finished or not. Hopefully, having a few updates to a fic light on plot will give you guys a few minutes of respite amidst the stress. I can't promise I'll update too often, but I'll at least have another few chapters to this story and its companion up soon!
> 
> Note that this is a very cliche, simplistic story that's going to rely mostly on character interactions. It's intended to be a nice, easy read - nothing too heavy. Characters mentioned from the modern world will be OOC to varying degrees - some a little, some a lot. You can also read it separate from or alongside Lines That Burn, but if you want the full story (and especially if you like Obito) I suggest reading both.
> 
> Enjoy!

The blue glow of the laptop screen cuts through the darkness like a sharp-edged knife. His eyes are tired and red and his fingers are moving in practiced motions along the controller in his hand. He hasn’t moved in maybe an hour, maybe more—doesn’t want to feel the sting of time. _One more round_ , he tells himself. It’s what he’s been saying all night, what he’ll probably say until sunrise, though he’ll never admit it. Ah, whatever. He’s allowed to indulge.

Finals ended today. He’s confident, he _knows_ that he’s done well, and feels he’s earned one night of sleep deprivation.

His button combo is delayed and he watches in horror as his character is gutted by the boss. “No, nonono—”

There are lights and flashes and _he was so close_ and suddenly the music cuts away to a sad little piano track, the blue light of entirely patronizing words staring at him against a black backdrop.

_GAME OVER._

_Play again?_

Naruto throws his arm up with a guttural growl conveying all of his frustrations but stops. His hand is in the air, holding tight to the grip of his controller, and the angry throw that he _wants_ to make is aborted because controllers are expensive and he’s a broke student with fifty dollars and a coupon to the local barbecue to his name. Instead, he places it gently down onto the bed next to him. But he _does_ glare. And it’s _very_ pointed.

He sighs and watches the cutscene before the boss fight replay. It’s long and tired and the worst part about this fight is losing because that means he’s seen it again and again and _again_ and if he would _just stop messing up_ —

The bedroom door slams open with a bang and he nearly jumps out of his skin. He sits up, back straight, and suddenly the character dialogue looping from the computer screen is relegated to the background as he feels _eyes_ on him that he’s not brave enough to face.

 _“Naruto,”_ his mother bites out, and there are threats there somewhere that he’s not willing to search for. “Do you have any idea what time it is, you little shit?”

Naruto smiles complacently and feels small under those eyes. “Of course,” he laughs, his hand craning back to rub anxiously at the base of his neck, “i-it’s, um. Ten?”

 _“Four,”_ she spits, her hand balling into a fist, _“in the morning.”_

“Right, right!” He smiles, sunshine and cheer with a smothered dash of _please don’t kill me I’m too young._

“Bed, young man,” Mom commands, her voice uncharacteristically flat. “ _Now_.”

The door slams shut and Naruto melts against the wall like his body is made of jelly. He somehow managed not to make eye contact throughout that exchange. Mom’s scary when she’s angry and he doesn’t really need the nightmares. He waits until there are steps fading down the hall, listens cautiously for any sort of movement that might indicate that Mom’s there lurking, _waiting_ , before muting his computer and picking the controller back up.

After all, it’s only four. He has at _least_ until five before the sun starts coming up.

But then he dies again. And even without sound he doesn’t want to sit through another _goddamn cutscene._ But he does, because Naruto is nothing if not persistent, and he’s no quitter.

He rests his chin in his hand and narrows his eyes at the well animated but overall _unnecessary_ exchange between the villain and the main character. Even without sound it’s annoying, and even without sound the subtitles are there, and he finds himself mockingly mouthing the words, rolling his eyes as one of the party members is shot down and falls in slow motion to the rubble at their feet.

“Oh no,” he whispers patronizingly, sarcastically, “not the _princess_. Please. She’s resurrected in the sequel, anyway.”

Naruto may be bitter. Just a bit.

It reaches the end of the scene and the battle starts and he just… stares. For a long, long while. Watches the character get stabbed through the chest without him ever making a move to fight back.

_GAME OVER._

_Play again?_

Naruto closes his eyes, sighs, and shuts down his computer. He doesn’t want to admit that Mom may be right, that he needs to get some damn sleep, but he finds himself rubbing at tired eyes and feels his thoughts grow fuzzy. He flops down onto his mattress and stares vacantly at the light cast across his ceiling from the window.

He misses his class, just a bit. Not his college class—he hardly remembers a third of the faces in his program—but his _other_ class. Last semester, he got to act as a student teacher. He knows that his next chance is right around the corner but it’s not soon enough and he’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do over his next few months of break. Move out, probably. Maybe. It’s been a long time coming, but paying rent isn’t the easiest thing in the world when working part time, and he has his studying to focus on so he can’t move to full. He doesn’t want to be a burden to his parents forever, though, so…

Naruto likes kids. He never thought that he did—wanted to be a highschool teacher, at first. They’re loud and high strung and annoying— _and like you_ , his mom would say, and he can’t deny her without being called a hypocrite. But then he was assisting that class, making lesson plans, and—and it just felt _right_ and all sorts of _good_.

And now he’s getting all mushy and gross and damn it, he really does need sleep.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it. A warm rush soothes his body. It feels like four weeks of stress just bleeds away from his shoulders and he’s out before he even knows it.

He does not see the glow of the seal as it carves a spiral into his stomach.

* * *

The best part about waking up at home and not in his college dorm is the quiet. There’s no rattle of pipes at six in the morning as his roommate decides— _rudely—_ to have an early morning shower. The room doesn’t smell like sweat and sleep deprivation and stale bread from the three-day-old pizza box that’s been sitting on the table that neither of them are okay with yet haven’t gotten up the motivation to throw out. It smells of fresh laundry and warmth and _home_ and every nice thing in between. The comforter is thick and cozy and the pillows just seem to sit better here than there, and maybe that’s just his own personal bias rearing its ugly head but he doesn’t care.

There is none of this when Naruto wakes up. There is only cold and wind and the smell of rain.

Naruto is sore. His back feels like it’s been assaulted by a jackhammer and the ground—ground? Yes, _ground—_ is hard and cold and unrelenting and he _hates it._ He wants to just pull his covers over his head and go back to sleep, but his covers are gone and so are his pillows and _where is this—_

He dares to open his eyes. Trees stretch out before him into infinity. There’s rain, the world is wet around him and his sweater is slick and stained and sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

Huh. He hasn’t been to a forest since his camping trip last summer.

Naruto hefts himself to his feet and brushes the grit of mud off his pant legs. He looks around, brow arched and eyes wide as he takes wandering steps through the long, dripping grasses. It’s not raining now but it was. He can feel the weight of his hair lying flat against his skin, feels tiny droplets slide across the nape of his neck, and shivers as the world around him rustles with a breath of wind.

By all intents and purposes, Naruto should be panicking. Any sane person would. But Naruto’s been told that he’s a good man to have in a crisis, that he’s able to keep a level head no matter what situation he finds himself in, and he’s thinking that maybe that’s true. There should be a million questions racing and frantic through his mind but right now there’s only one: _how?_ He thinks back to his room, to his bed, to his chastising mom and annoying video game. There were headphones on his desk, a few empty glasses piled up on his nightstand. He’d unplugged his lamp to charge his phone. He remembers _everything_ about the state of his room before his eyes and yet—and _yet—_ he’s here, in the aftermath of a rainstorm, broken branches at his feet. The hum of insects alive in the air.

Huh.

The first thing that he notes is that this forest is not familiar. It’s not the one that borders his town—he’s explored every nook and cranny of that one since childhood and knows that he would at least feel _some_ sense of familiarity if lost in it—and that is… concerning. Obviously.

The second thing he notes is that he won’t be able to orient himself with the sun because it’s currently hidden behind a thick, grey cloud cover. Fantastic.

Naruto is an optimist. He really, truly is, and Mom says that he gets it from Dad but really, he thinks his blind positivity falls more in line with her. He would never dare to say that to her face, though, because he values his safety.

It’s not clear how long he’s left wandering until he finds a stream, but he’s not complaining when he does. A grin stretches across his face and he dips his hands into the water, washes away the caked on mud and grime that have him feeling so disgusting, and drinks. A stream is probably a good sign. If he follows it, he hopes that he’ll eventually come across a town and then maybe a phone. He doesn’t have any money on him but, well, things will work out in the end. They always do.

He reasons that a fifteen minute break is all he needs before getting back on his feet and allows himself to rest against a tree and close his eyes.

There’s a thud by his ear and he blinks his eyes open, slowly turning his neck. A short blade is embedded in the bark next to his head and his chest tightens with something that may or may not be fear. Then he snaps up, eyes darting frantically around the field, searching for—well, for _something_ , he’s not entirely sure what. But for all that he can tell, he’s alone. The world is silent, save the sounds of nature and water and bugs and _wind_ that have been a near-constant since he woke up, and that realization makes his stomach drop.

Who threw it, then?

Suddenly, he’s slammed back against the tree with a force that aches and splinters the wood. He hisses, tries to pry away the hand that’s a crushing grip on his shoulder, but he can’t call upon enough strength to do so.

It feels like he’s just been hit with a brick.

“The _hell_ is—”

Green eyes. The assailant has green eyes, big and wide and soft and calm. Something nags at the back of his mind but before he can delve into it, the edge of something sharp and cold is pressed threateningly against his throat.

“ _Where’s Naruto_?”

It’s a girl’s voice, rough and angry and all sorts of threatening. It’s a familiar one. Naruto blinks. His hand falls away from the girl’s wrist as he tilts his head and considers her. _She’s young_ , he thinks, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Seventeen? He’s not sure. Teenagers always look the same to him. But the more he looks, the stupider he thinks himself. The short hair is a first. She looks younger, livelier, with a spark in her eye that would almost be charming, if it wasn’t taking deadly aim at him.

“Sakura,” he says simply. He feels the hands on him tense and he arches a brow. The gravity of the situation is lost to him when he realizes who she is and there’s a blade to his throat and a crushing weight on his shoulder but it’s Sakura, it’s a familiar face, and that is enough.

Sakura narrows her eyes. Her grip wavers, her hand shakes, and there’s a dangerously glossy film over her eyes. She grits her teeth and strengthens her resolve as the blade digs painfully into his neck. “Don’t,” she snaps, “ don’t you _dare_. _Where is he?”_

Naruto frowns. She looks young, he reminds himself, and there are so many things wrong with this situation that he shuts down a little. He coughs, too, because her strength is choking and air isn’t coming to him easily. He could try to overpower her, but that strength is inhuman, _especially_ for someone so lean.

They stay like that, her breaths turning to frantic pants as words fail between them. The blade falls away, the hand fixed against his shoulder follows, and she stumbles back. Then that blade, that—what _is_ that?—hits the grass and her hands come up, drawn over her mouth as if to convey the horrors set before her eyes.

Well, that’s kinda rude. He might be a bit of a mess right now but damn, that’s harsh even for her.

It’s a joke. He’s good at those—gets it from his mom, a way to diffuse the tension. She looks like she’s seen a ghost and it doesn’t sit well with him.

“N—” Sakura chokes on the name. It’s a broken, fragile sound that makes him feel sick. “...Naruto?”

Naruto fills his lungs with forest air and smiles. He smiles because this poor girl looks like she’s been through a lot, looks like she needs it, like she needs some grounding to keep her from falling over. There are weapons on her person, bruises on her arms, and she could use someone to lean on. And Naruto, if nothing else, is good at reassurance.

He steps closer and she steps back, her foot dangerously near the edge of the riverbed. “Careful,” he cautions and a hand reaches out. “Deep breaths, Sakura. Come here.”

She’s shaking her head, running a hand through her short pink hair, shaking and stressed and impossibly tired. “You can’t—” She swallows. “Can’t be. You can’t be him, you don’t—”

Naruto wants to counter by saying that _she_ can’t be _Sakura._ But that’s probably the single worst thing that he can say right now and so he doesn’t. Naruto has a childish streak, sure. But four months teaching a monster group of children has taught him a thing or two about tact. He’s brash, not stupid. “Well,” he breaths and takes another step, “my _name_ is Naruto, at least. Now c’mon. Before you hurt yourself.”

He’s unsurprised when she doesn’t move. Even less so when she shakes her head again. The tears that threatened to fall before are stuck, it seems, as her brows knit together. She’s looking at him closely, studying every line on his face, and slowly her arms fall away.

Her frown deepens and she taps her cheek. “Your… your markings,” she mutters. “You can’t be. Naruto has—he has _marks_ on his cheeks. He always has. It has to be a henge, or—”

Naruto has no idea what those words mean separately. He’s especially lost when they’re strung together like that.

“And you’re… older,” she whispers, as though it’s a curse. But then the horror turns to fascination and she stumbles forward, bold and curious and the tears are gone. “It’s… a really bad henge, honestly.”

Naruto nods slowly, because that’s about all that he can do when she’s making absolutely no sense. “...Right. I don’t know what that is.”

Sakura snorts. “Like you don’t—” But then she frowns, leans in further, scans him _deeply_ as though searching for the lie. She’s pale, desperate, sweat beading down her neck. “...You really don’t, do you?”

He shakes his head rapidly. It pays to be honest, especially when the one standing opposite him has access to a lot of sharp and pointy objects.

“Sage,” she breaths, looking boneless and tired. “...Naruto?”

“Hm?”

“...You’re _Naruto?_ Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods simply. It’s true, even if he’s starting to gather that she may be referring to a _different_ Naruto. He’d like to meet the guy; it must be hard, having parents crazy enough to name the guy after a ramen topping. Naruto can sympathize.

But then Sakura is shaking her head again. Then the muttering starts. The pacing. Naruto, ever the optimist, considers this progress. At least sharp, pointy things aren’t being waved in his face.

She looks at him, curses, looks away. Kicks the dirt. Paces. Looks again, shakes her head, then again with narrow eyes. Bites the end of her finger nail. Then nods.

“Tell me something only Naruto would know,” she demands. Her eyes are still red but she’s looking a lot less crushed, so that’s a plus.

Naruto hums, crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree—the one with the sharp object still embedded in it. Nothing comes to mind.

“Anything,” she urges desperately.

“Anything,” he repeats, sighing. He frowns down at his bare feet, at how muddied they are, the squelch of mud between his toes. This is hard, because he’s pretty sure he’s not the Naruto that she’s referring to. “I… don’t know.”

Sakura’s eyes narrow and he hurries to raise placating hands.

“I can list facts,” he insists, “but I don’t know what I can say to convince you that I am who I say I am.”

She frowns, a hand on her hip as she carries her weight and looks very, _very_ unamused. “You certainly don’t talk like he does.”

Naruto pouts at that, wondering what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but doesn’t ask. “Naruto Uzumaki,” he introduces. “My mother’s name is Kushina Uzumaki, my father is Minato Namikaze. Um…” He scratches his head. Damn, okay, he’s already losing steam. “My favourite thing is ramen? My favourite colour is orange. We were in the same class. Except…”

 _“What?”_ she snaps, and he has flashbacks to his mother.

He watches her, face blank as his arms fall to his sides. “Except that I don’t think I know you.”

By the way that she meets his gaze evenly, he's pretty sure that she's come to the same conclusion.

“I know a Sakura,” he continues, “but you're not her.”

Sakura's eyes flit down to his orange sweater, her mouth tight and shoulders drawn, and she releases a shuddering breath. “You're not him. But… you're still _Naruto_.”

“Well,” he grins, feeling a little humour might diffuse the tension, “last I checked.”

Sakura doesn’t appreciate it. Well, that's fine. One day he'll be appreciated. He can wait.

She closes her eyes and lowers onto the ground, releasing a shuddering sigh. He drops down next to her, makes to place a hand on her shoulder but thinks better of it, and they just wait there for a while, nothing to fill the silence.

Naruto thinks that maybe he should be more concerned than he is, but he can't bring himself to be. Things will work themselves out. They always do.

Green eyes are on him again. Watching. Studying. She's just as analytical as the Sakura that he knows, which is a comfort.

“Where are you even _from_?” she asks, exasperated. “Are you, maybe, an Orochimaru clone? He does things like that, doesn't he? Ugh, I don't know…”

He laughs, loud and hearty, and she doesn’t appreciate it but he can't help it because _none_ of what she just said makes anywhere close to any sense. Oh, whatever. He'll play. He doesn't think he has much choice in the matter. “What happened?”

“To Naruto?”

“Yeah.”

Sakura's frown is back, creases in her brow as her face contorts into something painful, a marker for her every thought as they carry her through the memory. “He… vanished. Just up and disappeared one night.” She shifts, thumps her head back against the tree, chin tipped up and eyes to the muted grey sky. “It's been seven months now.”

Naruto nods because there isn't much else that he _can_ do. “So he left.”

“ _No_ ,” she spits and it sounds like she's saying that more for her sake than his. “He wouldn't—would never _do_ that. Naruto’s not like that. Akatsuki must have _taken_ him or—or _something_.”

He’s quiet as he ponders that, his eyes falling to his hands, and he smiles. He doesn't tell her of the time he left home, doesn't want to worry her needlessly over the potential fate of her friend because really, it's not his place. He understands her resolve, the unyielding trust that she's placing in her friend. But he also knows himself, what he's like and how he's always been.

It finally sinks in, then, that he has a twin running around somewhere and he feels himself pale. He doesn't say anything, doesn't want to burden this poor kid who's obviously going through a lot, but the implications of what this means are running circles in his head. There are two of him. There’s another Naruto out there and—and this is another Sakura, and this is _definitely_ not his home town and he's not even sure it's anywhere in his damn _country_ and he recognizes the name Orochimaru, too, because he's Sakura's biology professor and—

And Naruto is no science major, but he _is_ a comic book nerd, and he _does_ know the bare bones of physics. But he also thinks that this is just the kind of fever dream that he expects from a night of binge eating junk food and playing retro video games.

Oh no.

But it doesn’t make sense. None of this does, and only now is that hitting him, and if this _is_ the truth then how does he get _back_ and—

 _Breathe._ It will be okay. Things always work out in the end.

“Crap,” Sakura curses, rising unsteadily to her feet. She twists around, digs the blade out of the tree trunk and returns it to her pouch. “I'm on patrol. They're going to think something happened if I don’t make my report.”

“Then go,” he says, staring up at her.

Sakura narrows her eyes and offers a hand. “You're coming, too, Naruto.”

He arches an eyebrow but allows the girl to help him to his feet. Soon he's looking down on her, and she's so strangely small. But, well, the Sakura that he knows has never been all that tall, either. “I am?”

“Well you're not just going to up and leave again, idiot.” She rolls her eyes and pulls him along. He lets her, wanders easily through the lines of trees that make up the forest, allowing his eyes to drift from one set of branching leaves to the next. He wonders, vaguely, how she manages to find her way so easily through such a maze. He keeps wondering because if he stops then he worries he'll be focusing on the way her eyes are cast hard to the ground. “Sorry. I know you're not him, but…”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It's fine.”

* * *

Sakura is pretty sure that the guy she picked up must just be wearing a Naruto skin. This… clone, or whatever he's claiming to be—he hasn't _actually_ claimed to be _anything_ and she doesn't want to fry her brain by trying to make sense of him—doesn't act all that much like the Naruto she knows. He's calmer. Mellow. This guy hasn't raised his voice once at her, not in anger or excitement or any other raw, abrasive emotion. He hasn't even said the word ‘Hokage.’

Actually…

She looks back at Naruto as they near the village walls. His eyes are on her kunai pouch, like it's the most bizarre thing to ever exist, and she's fairly certain that he doesn’t know what a kunai is. Which is ridiculous; they started training with kunai way back in the academy and even civilians are familiar with them. They're from a _hidden village._ But she supposes that isn't true for this Naruto… This Naruto is very different. When she attacked earlier, his reaction times were beyond slow and his counters… well, he didn't _have_ counters.

This guy never raised a hand to her. This guy had no plans to fight back. And it's… it's weird, because people aren't _like that._ People fight back. People _stand their ground._

But that isn't right, either. It isn't as though Naruto backed down or submitted, he just… never resorted to combat.

They make it to Konoha's gates with Naruto lagging behind but complying all the same. Izumo stands up from his post and hurries across the path to meet them with a stretching grin. “Well, I'll be. Naruto,” the guard breathes, “you finally made it home.”

Naruto waves awkwardly. It's painfully obvious that he's never met the guy before.

Kotetsu frowns from where he remains at his post, resting his chin in his hand. “Look closer, Iz. Something's not right.”

Izumo shoots his partner a look that promises _words_ later.

It's up to Sakura to explain. The only way that she can convince them to let the clone in is by promising to bring Naruto straight to the Hokage's office, which is her plan anyway. They agree, however reluctantly, and Sakura marches her way inside with an older blond rallying behind.

It's so obvious that Naruto's never been here before that it's painful to watch. For all that their Naruto had a rough start out of life, it's still his home. To see someone who looks so similar not _hating_ it but not even _knowing_ it is weird and unnerving and several shades of wrong.

Now that they're in the village, Naruto isn't complying so easily. He returns wary glances with diffusing smiles so startlingly honest that they briefly throw the villagers off key. He does this while dallying at stalls with his face lighting up every time he sees something new and fascinating. The one saving grace is that he asks to stop at Ichiraku as they pass by, which is so _Naruto_ and so welcome that Sakura considers it. Briefly. Before saying ‘no.’

The first thing she needs to do is report this to Lady Tsunade. The Hokage can decide what to do from here.

Naruto shoves his hands into his pockets and hums as he walks, eyes lingering on food stalls. “So this is a ninja village,” he surmises.

“Yeah,” she affirms, glancing back. “You didn’t know?”

He shrugs. “Lucky guess. And, I mean, ninjas are cool. If you like that sort of thing.”

“Are you _sure_ you're Naruto?” asks Sakura. “Because I'm pretty sure he would think blasphemy if he ever heard you say that.”

Naruto laughs, long and hard, and it eases some of her worries.

* * *

Kakashi’s heart isn’t in his latest report. Well, it hasn’t been in any of his latest reports. No one has noticed and he suspects that no one will; he’s kept up his lazy, careless act for so many years now that it’s what everyone expects of him. So, when the behaviour grows from an act to genuine emotion, it goes unnoticed. That’s fine. Kakashi’s always been the type to deal with his demons on his own, by his own will and power. Sometimes things turn out poorly because of that, but that’s always been his way.

Naruto’s disappearance was the last nail in a half-buried coffin. Kakashi looks at the missing pieces of his cute team of genin and wonders where he went wrong, or if there was any place where he went right. First Sasuke, then Naruto, both in the dead of night. But there were at least some witnesses to Sasuke’s disappearance. No one saw Naruto leave. No one. One day he was there, and the next…

Well. The next, Team Kakashi is scattered with another lost member. Sai has since returned to Root and Sakura’s been on standby. She’ll fill in for other teams, help out at the hospital, train with Lady Tsunade and sometimes go on border control. She’s keeping herself busy. They all are.

Tsunade takes a breath, her hands intertwined atop her desk, and like that she reminds Kakashi of Lord Third. Being completely, utterly _tired_ seems to come with the title of Hokage and Kakashi can only feel glad that the job isn’t his.

“Nothing again, eh?” she asks, muttering. Her eyes cast left to the vacant space by her chair, a space usually occupied by Shizune. But Tsunade’s assistant is at the hospital aiding in the recovery of an injured team of jōnin, so she’s left to shoulder the burden of the report by herself.

“Unfortunately,” Kakashi affirms, his voice cool and blank even against his own sympathies. Kakashi was the first sent to retrieve Naruto. He’s always been an excellent tracker, but even his dogs couldn’t catch his student’s scent.

The Hokage’s office is very big and empty without the little blond genin there to take up space.

Tsunade sighs, dipping her head and closing her eyes, and despite the youth that she allows herself, her face looks tired and old, lined with long nights of worry and long days of work. “I see. Well, Jiraiya should be returning soon. Let’s see if he comes with better news.”

Kakashi watches her with a half-lidded eye. He isn’t so optimistic. “One can hope.”

“Hope, huh?” She lets out a soft snort, shakes her head, then leans back in her chair.

Something buzzes in the air before Tsunade can continue and they both turn to face the door, feeling the presence beyond it. There’s rustling from the hall, a chastising voice and pleading words—one of the guards, by the sounds of it—and then the door is kicked open. Kakashi half expects to see an orange and black jumpsuit on the other side but instead there’s Sakura. She marches forth, body rigid with sharp lines. Her brow is furrowed, eyes dead set on the Hokage, and she reminds Kakashi of a kunoichi on a mission.

Sakura stops at the desk, opens her mouth, then rounds back to the door and glares with her hands on her hips. “Hey,” she calls, “what’s the holdup? Get in here.”

Kakashi narrows his eye. Now, he’s no sensor type, but he can usually get a grasp on the faint levels of chakra that shinobi possess well enough to be aware of their presence. But he senses nothing else beyond a frazzled guard in the hall and the staff on the lower floor.

So Kakashi’s left blank-faced and quiet when a young man creeps in from beyond the door frame, looking every bit like he doesn’t want to be there.

“Well,” Naruto mutters— _mutters—_ and it’s such a quiet, awkward sound, so apologetic and unintrusive, that Kakashi can’t be entirely sure it’s Naruto who says it, “it looks like we’re interrupting something. We should wait outside.”

Sakura blinks and her eyes drift to Kakashi as though she’s seeing him for the very first time, and she very well may be. Her back goes straight and her arms fall to her sides. “Sensei—” Then she cranes her neck around to face the Hokage, eyes wide and jaw slack. “Oh—sorry. Are you in the middle of a report? We can go—”

But Tsunade doesn’t care about the mission report. Neither does Kakashi. Both are currently gawking at the blond still situated halfway through the door, looking nothing like the confident ninja who grinned at them seven months prior. No, really—because unless Kakashi has been so out of sorts that he’s lost track of time, this young man is a few years too old to be their Naruto. The clothes he wears are strange and foreign, and his cheeks are lacking the distinctive marks left as an effect of the nine-tailed fox’s chakra. But those are Minato’s eyes on Kushina’s face and even when everything else is wrong, that fact is unmistakable.

Kakashi automatically lifts the left side of his hitai-ate, bringing it level. His vision adjusts, crisp and clear and vibrant in a way that tells him that his sharingan is active, but even his sharingan sees no signs of a genjutsu or henge. He turns to see Tsunade watching him with shaking brown eyes and he doesn’t know what to say. According to his sharingan, there’s no deception.

But this can’t be Naruto.

Apparently feeling out the tension in the air, Naruto backpedals a step. There’s a hand on the door frame, a good sign that he doesn’t want to be here as his sight darts about the room. Then he takes a breath, inclines his head politely, and smiles.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he says, and a part of Kakashi wants to laugh because Naruto is the only person in the room who still cares about that. Then his eyes go to Sakura. His smile is wide and patient, and he beckons her over. “Sakura, c’mon. Let’s wait in the hall, okay?”

Sakura’s shoulders slump and she runs a hand through her hair, exasperated and amused all at once. “Naruto,” she breathes, “you really need to learn to read a room.”

Naruto raises a brow. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m doing.”

“If it is, you’re doing a bad job of it.”

Naruto takes that as a cue to really look at the two people in the room. His eyes ghost over Tsunade without pause, as though she’s an unfamiliar face. As though they’ve never met. It’s strange, seeing that, seeing the brief flash of _something_ on Tsunade’s face before it’s smoothed over with practiced effort. But Naruto doesn’t do that to Kakashi. Naruto _stares_.

This Naruto is a stranger, Kakashi tells himself, and it’s enough to keep him calm and steady. Naruto is looking like he wants to say something but doesn’t, though, and it bothers him.

Sakura backs up, nearer to the stranger, with uncharacteristic hesitance. She feels the tension now, too, then. She raises placating hands. “He’s not a threat, I promise,” she assures. “It’s—he’s Naruto. He’s just not… not _our_ Naruto. I think.”

Tsunade’s lips twitch and she shoves aside some papers on her desk to create a space to prop up her elbows. “Explain. I want to know _exactly_ what this is, Sakura.”

“Well—” Sakura looks over her shoulder, settling on Naruto. “We don’t really know, either. I found him in the forest while on patrol.”

Naruto places a firm hand on her shoulder and it’s enough to ease away some of the stress in the hard line of her shoulders. She smiles at him, tired and weak, and he smiles back.

Naruto finally gathers up the strength to set foot into the room. He’s grinning, and that grin is probably the most familiar thing about him, especially when paired with another half bow as he stops by Tsunade’s desk. “You must be the… Hokage?” He casts a glance back at his friend, who nods. “Hokage. Right. My name is Naruto Uzumaki and I think you know me.”

Tsunade sets him beneath a hard glare that promises a world of threats, cautioning him to tread carefully. “I do,” she says, flat and cold.

“Except that you don’t,” Naruto counters. He raises his hands and laughs when he sees the look _that_ gets him, leaning away just a bit. “I mean to say that I’m not the Naruto that you know, Lady… Tsun…” He casts Sakura a pleading glance, to which the chunin mouths a name. “Tsunade. Lady Tsunade.”

“ _Explain_.”

“I can’t?” he tries, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, myself. I just woke up in the forest. Nothing to it. And apparently you’re all ninja?” He shakes his head, as though the whole thing is absurd. “My best guess is that I’m from another world. Or um—”

“Orochimaru clone,” Sakura supplies.

“That,” he agrees. Judging by his tone, he has no idea what that means and is just going along with it because it’s been suggested to him. “Sakura suggested we go to you. As head of the village, you have a right to know.”

Kakashi watches the exchange impartially, his hitai-ate back in place and his hands buried in his pockets. He listens intently, can’t muster up the energy to bring out his copy of _Icha Icha_. He watches this boy, this young man several years older than the Naruto who left the village, explain what little knowledge he’s amassed and express his understanding to a woman who ought to be like family to him. But to this Naruto, Tsunade is a stranger.

Kakashi is not. And that—

That is something Kakashi is very, _very_ curious about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, more of some of the pre-written story. It turns out my workplace has been deemed essential and so I'll be continuing to work there during the quarantine in my area, but I'll do my best to try writing when I can for those of you stuck at home, be it this, my other ongoing stories, or any oneshot ideas I may be inspired to write.
> 
> Stay safe everyone!

Naruto sits outside the Hokage’s office, bouncing his legs as he waits for the door to open. The three he met before are still inside discussing his presence and he’s been left in the hall with the guard that’s stationed there leering at him. The whole exchange he had with the village head and that—that _ninja_ who looks all too familiar—has left him more anxious than expected. They look at him like Sakura looks at him, like they’re seeing a ghost. He doesn’t blame them. Not really. He can only imagine the frustration that they feel. Still, he’s none too keen on finding himself wrapped up in ninja politics when all he wants is a way home. But how would he even _get_ home when he doesn’t know how he got here?

Naruto reasons that seeking sanctuary in this village is his best option to start. He has no food, no clothes and no cash to speak of. Well, that last bit wasn’t any different back home. The only way he can keep himself secure is by staying here until he can find a way home, if he can. That word—that ‘if’—is not something that he likes to entertain. But Naruto is practical, Naruto is reasonable, and Naruto won’t delude himself into thinking that everything will work out like in a comic book, even though that was exactly what he tried last time. For now, he’ll take the hand he’s dealt.

Sakura believes him. He wonders what it’ll take for the rest to follow suit.

The door opens and he grins, his head snapping up. It’s hard to keep that grin up when he finds that it’s Kakashi, not Sakura, who stands in the entranceway. Behind him, Sakura is mouthing apologies.

This can’t be good.

Kakashi’s lone eye bears down at him. It’s a hollow, cold look, and it looks wrong. Everything about this man is so, so, _so wrong_. Sakura carries with her a sense of familiarity. She’s practical and smart and determined in the same way that she’s always been—that the Sakura he knows has always been. Kakashi is… something else. Something else entirely. Naruto’s having trouble taking this man in stride the way that he has with Sakura.

He’s pretty sure Kakashi notices.

“Alright,” Kakashi sighs, a hand shoved in his pocket and slouch to his back. “You’ll be coming with me.”

Naruto nods. He’s not one for conflict. He’ll comply, even if he has to choke back some disappointment. He hoped it would be Sakura escorting him out. She’s easy to talk to—a bit scary when coupled with her monstrous strength, but kind. Genuine. She’s a little warmer than the Sakura he knows, a little softer, just a smidge more feminine. But she’s a good kid.

For this guy, this man who looks familiar but isn’t, to be his escort…

Naruto’s _pretty sure_ they don’t trust him.

He’ll deal. He gets up off the bench and offers a hand. “Nice to meet ya.”

Kakashi stares dully at the hand but doesn’t take it. “I’m coming to understand why Sakura finds you ‘a bit off’.”

He pouts. “That’s rude. So, what are we doing with me? I’m not being carted off to ninja prison, am I?”

“Maa, nothing quite so dramatic.” Kakashi beckons him to follow and they begin their descent. “We’ll be taking a trip to Torture and Interrogation, to start.”

Oh. Oh, well that doesn’t sound good at all. His steps falter. “You don’t _actually_ intend to…”

“It’s a precaution,” he says. “Under normal circumstances, there would be cause for alarm. But I didn’t detect a henge or genjutsu or anything else that could hint at you deceiving us. In any case, Lord Fifth wants to believe you, even if she can’t.”

“I don’t know what about a fourth of those words mean, but I’ll summarize and assume that I have good fortune.”

Kakashi turns to him then and his eye arches into a reflection of a smile but there’s nothing behind it. It’s as hollow as his stare and something of that unsettles Naruto. “Close enough.”

* * *

The boy takes to interrogation surprisingly well. He’s agreeable, more so than their Naruto ever has been, and it’s jarring to see. Kakashi watches from across the room, a guard appointed by Tsunade, as Naruto makes small talk with Inoichi while the room is set up. He’s curious, asking questions about just how this will work and what the process is. He asks about tells—if Inoichi is going to use body language to tell truth from lie. Inoichi laughs at that.

“Not quite,” he says. He doesn’t explain, of course. Village secrets are kept for a reason. “Let’s say my family specializes in a certain jutsu.”

Naruto stares blankly as hands are pressed to his temples. “There’s that word again. What a weird village.”

Naruto is still chatting while Inoichi is sifting through his memories. He’s impossibly calm for someone who, on the way there, asked Kakashi what a henge was and whether or not it was another ninja weapon. What Sakura says is true—he doesn’t seem to know anything about ninja. They just don’t exist in his world, at least not in the way that they do here. Naruto knows the word. He just doesn’t know anything behind it.

Kakashi sees this boy and he sees something so familiar and yet so foreign. It draws up emotions he’s none too good at dealing with, memories that he’s not equipped to face. They only nag at him further when this relaxed, easygoing stranger looks at him and falls silent.

He makes Naruto uneasy and he wants to know why.

When the interrogation is over, Inoichi pulls him out of the room with a grave look in his eye.

“I saw it,” he says, “I saw it all.”

Kakashi narrows his eye. “Go on.”

“The boy is telling the truth,” he says. “His world really is different from ours. He’s attending some sort of academy at the moment and his parents—I saw—”

Inoichi needs a moment. He covers his mouth with his hands and his eyes dart across the floor as he processes the thought. Then, with great trepidation, he hedges, “Naruto is the Fourth’s boy?”

Kakashi bites his lip and says nothing. Lord Third’s gag order may have failed to protect Naruto from the harsh judgements of his peers, but it succeeded in keeping one thing under wraps. Few people know whose child he is. Inoichi is not one of them. At least, he wasn’t.

“I saw him,” Inoichi continues. “I saw Lord Fourth and his wife. They’re alive in his world. He lives with them. I saw his teammates— _our_ boy’s teammates—too. He’s been acquainted with them for years. And I saw his last memory before he came here. He was at home, going to sleep sometime before dawn. Then, he woke up here. Unless he used some sort of genjutsu that I’m unaware of, he’s telling the truth.”

Kakashi used his sharingan during the exchange. There wasn’t so much as a chakra spike throughout it. Everything he’s hearing is a lot to process, but Kakashi is good at compartmentalizing his thoughts, perhaps to an unhealthy degree. He thanks Inoichi for his hard work and goes to fetch the boy. Naruto’s smile falls when there’s silence between them.

“Something wrong?”

Kakashi nods to the door. “Next stop,” he says simply. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Um. Sure. Sounds great.”

While Naruto bathes, Kakashi will send word to Lady Tsunade. Precautions still need to be made, but what he’s found is not what he expects.

So rarely are imposters ever this honest.

* * *

Naruto has only been to a hot spring once in his life, on a trip he took with his parents when he was seven. So when he’s brought to one, he’s at first not sure how the whole thing works. He bathes before entering and it feels amazing to get all the day’s dirt off of him, but pauses when he looks around to see that he’s been left alone. This is the first time since setting foot in the village that he’s truly had a moment to himself and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like having time to _think_. Naruto is able to keep a level head, but he does so best with company. He likes focusing on other people to keep from worrying about himself. He helps them. He eases their worries in place of his own. That’s how he copes. So not having even _that guy_ here is alarming.

They don’t trust him. Why is he alone?

When he enters the actual hot spring, there’s no one else there. He’s surprised to find it completely empty, and it’s as pleasant as it is discouraging. But the moment he’s in the water, his worries melt away. It feels _amazing_. The heat and steam and everything—it’s _perfect._ So perfect, in fact, that he closes his eyes, tips back his head, and relaxes at the edge. When he thinks here, he doesn’t worry about the ‘what ifs’. It’s a nice change of pace.

When he opens his eyes and lifts his head, he sees a body through the steam. Kakashi’s returned, perched on the wooden planks by the entrance with a book in hand. He’s wearing the same uniform he was before and clearly has no intention of joining Naruto in the water, which is fine. But it’s a strange sight, a man in uniform in a place where people are usually at their most vulnerable. The strangest part of all, though, is Kakashi himself.

Naruto floats across the spring to the stones at the far end and leans his elbows onto them for support. “Hey,” he calls, “can I ask you something?”

Kakashi doesn’t look up. He turns the page of his book, and that’s probably the most normal thing that this Kakashi’s ever done. “That depends.”

“Why the mask?”

“Maa, for reasons.”

“I mean I get that ninja have to be super secretive and mysterious and all, but Sakura wasn’t wearing one. Neither was the Hokage lady. So I’m guessing it’s a ‘you’ thing. But like, what do you look like under there?”

Kakashi arches a brow. He’s amused, to some degree, unless that gesture is as empty as the rest. But Naruto can’t be discouraged now that he has someone to talk to. The break from silence is a blessing.

“I saw the scar,” he continues, tapping his own cheek. “The one over your eye. The Kakashi I know doesn’t have it. So that’s different. Do you have a mole? Right about here?”

Kakashi looks up then. Whatever brief tell crosses his face then is smoothed over behind an indifferent mask. Maybe this isn’t the best subject to broach. “You’ve seen my face.”

“Well, yeah. The Kakashi I know doesn’t wear a mask. Or that, er—thing over your eye.”

“Hitai-ate.”

“Whatever. That.”

The book snaps shut and now he has Kakashi’s full attention, not that he’s entirely sure he wants it. He avoided telling this world’s Sakura about the Sakura he knows, but he's not sure he can do that with this one. It'll be hard, especially knowing a different Kakashi so closely. The looks he gets from this one are hard to deal with.

"You seem to know me quite well," Kakashi says.

"Because I know your face?" Naruto cracks a smile. "Kashi, _everyone does_. You don't hide it in my world. I mean, why would you?"

Kakashi notices the slip up before he does. By the time he _does_ notice, he's pretending that he doesn't. If this Kakashi is _anything_ like the one back home, there will be no questions. Not at first.

But Naruto doesn't like taking risks. He pushes off the edge of the spring and dives down if only to give himself an out.

* * *

Kakashi is instructed to let this Naruto use _their_ Naruto's apartment for the night. The boy cringes when they enter, muttering under his breath about the stale air as he cracks open the window. It's not messy in the way that it usually is. Sakura visited on several occasions after Naruto disappeared. It's likely her who has been keeping up the place, but even still it has a very Naruto look to it. Kakashi hasn't personally been here in those seven months of absence.

The boy starts sifting through the closet and frowning. "These are too small," he says, holding an orange jacket against his chest.

"I'll have something for you in the morning," Kakashi says, shoving his hands in his pockets as he observes. Even the mannerisms are different.

Naruto smiles at him. "Thanks, Kashi."

He won't say anything—not yet. Eventually, maybe. Not today. For now, he'll just smile back, even if it's a hollow gesture. Even if Naruto sees it for what it is.

He leaves then. When he closes the door to the apartment, it's Tenzo waiting for him on the other side.

"Tenzo," he greets. "You'll be taking over for me, I presume."

"It's Yamato now," Tenzo corrects. Kakashi doesn't understand why. No matter what the mission is or how many times they insist on switching names, Tenzo will always be Tenzo. "But yes. Lady Hokage filled me in. Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"Maa, if it's a lie then it's a very convincing one."

"Another world, huh?" Tenzo's thinks hard about this and all the implications that come with it. "If that's the case, it's unlikely that he'll lead us to our Naruto."

"Looks like it."

"Damn. I was hoping this could turn into a lead…"

Kakashi gives his shoulder a squeeze. "If you need me—"

" _Rest_ , Kakashi. I'll take it from here."

Kakashi sighs and there's defeat in his voice. He sets off for home but something tells him that he won't be getting much sleep.

* * *

Sakura is relieved when she gets word that she can visit the stranger. She's been worried. Maybe that's because he shares such a close resemblance to the Naruto she knows, maybe it's because he seems like a genuinely nice guy. Or maybe…

Maybe she just misses Naruto. Maybe she just wants to latch onto the closest thing they've got.

It's Captain Yamato who greets her at the apartment door. Knowing him, Naruto doesn't even know he's there. That's the ANBU way, she supposes. He's gone from sight by the time Naruto opens up the door. It's probably for the best.

The moment he sees her, he lights up.

"Fancy meeting you here," he grins, stepping aside. "C'mon in."

She follows him in and is surprised to find the place already reorganized. There are clothes in the wastebasket—shirts and pants with tears and staining. The bed is made, there's a kettle set to boil on the stove, and the half-dead plant by the windowsill is looking a little less thirsty.

He's already made himself at home. She doesn't know how she feels about that.

Sakura takes a seat at the little table in the centre of the room. She sees him eyeing her and arches a brow.

"You ditched the weapons," he says. "Good move."

"I thought you'd appreciate it."

Naruto laughs as he moves about the kitchen. He's brewing tea, something very unlike the Naruto that she knows. Where did he even find it?

"I'm actually glad to see you," he says. "I wanted to ask you a few things."

"Me first. Where—what is it _like_? Your world, I mean. Or, no, before that—how did you convince them that you were telling the truth?"

Naruto shrugs, setting a cup down before her. It's cracked but usable, as most of the cups in the apartment are. "Not sure. Ino's dad held my head for a long time and then he had a talk with Kakashi and sent me on my way."

So they interrogated him and read his memories. She expected as much. That means that his story must be true. Or as true as they can determine it, anyway. There's always the possibility of deception, ninja training engraved that into her mind from a young age. But they wouldn't let this unknown into Naruto's home if they suspected that.

"You know me in this other world? What am I like?"

Naruto serves tea and takes a seat across from her. His eyes glean amusement. "Not so different from how you are in this world, honestly."

She's disappointed. He takes note of it and gives it more thought.

"She's older, for one. A year older than I am. We used to go to school together, but now she's in med school. She rejected me last year and—” He grins, snickering to himself. “Man, when she rejected Sasuke, though? That was a _treat_.”

Sakura does not know what to say to that. Sakura has never imagined those words being strung together in that order. But Naruto is oblivious to her horror and leans his elbows on the table as he nurses his drink. He looks around as though sharing the darkest of secrets.

“You probably have a Sasuke, right?”

“Y—” She chokes on the word. “Yeah.”

Naruto leans in conspiratorially. “So, guy’s been in love with her for, what, ten years now? Something like that. But you know Sasuke, he’s so emotionally defective that he can’t work out what to do with feelings like those. And well, Sakura and I hit it off when we met in high school. Guy’s crazy jealous, not like he’ll say anything. And I mean, I like Sakura. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. But when I ask her out and she turns me down, I'm fine. Plenty of fish, life goes on, she’s still going to be my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that. I buy her coffee and listen to her rant about her biology professor for two hours. But _Sasuke._ ”

Sakura is hearing a lot of things that just don’t make sense. It feels like these people that Naruto’s talking about are strangers. In some sense, they are. But she finds herself pulled into the story despite that because picturing Sasuke, _any_ Sasuke, with romantic feelings for anyone at all, is a little impossible. Sasuke’s never shown interest in… well, in anyone.

Naruto makes a lot of big, sweeping gestures with his hands as he talks, as though they’re conveying the words for him. “It takes him until three months ago to say anything. And he says, he tells me he wants to do this _right._ So first, he books reservations at some fancy seafood place downtown. Asks her for a dinner date, yeah? But nope, Sakura has a research paper coming up. Okay, fine. Cancels the reservation. Asks her to the movies, you know, just as friends. No can do because she’ll be assisting her professor with an intro course and has to do _his_ shit on top of her own. Okay okay, she’s a med student, and she’s _super_ dedicated to her field, it’s part of what he likes about her.”

How could someone so offhandedly reject Sasuke like that? He’s perfect. Or, well, no—Sakura _thought_ he was perfect. But those thoughts are long dead and buried now, with several years of salt rubbed into her wounds. Those are the thoughts of a Sakura years younger who only cared about herself. Those aren’t her thoughts. Not anymore. Sakura has more to look forward to than a boyfriend. She has things she wants to learn and places she wants to go and they have nothing to do with Sasuke, not anymore. But still, hearing this…

“So what’s he to do? Naturally, asks when she’ll be free. And well, it’s Sakura. She looks up from her notes, pushes up her glasses, and gives him that _look—_ the one that says that she _really_ doesn’t have time for this. Smile slides right off his face. And she says ‘I don’t know, Sasuke. I really don’t. I’m swamped right now. What is it you want to say to me? Whatever it is, just _say it._ ’ And he just. He says it. Right there in the student centre. ‘I love you.’ I think he died a little inside. And Sakura, she doesn’t say _anything._ She looks around—few people heard, he’s making a scene and she _hates_ being the centre of attention but she asked for it, she _knows_ that she asked for it. So she turns back to her notes all ‘This really isn’t the time.’ Poor guy gets shut down right in front of everyone.”

Sakura covers her mouth with her hands and feels a little horrified. But when she thinks about it, she hates to admit that she’s been like that before. Naruto— _their_ Naruto—was so open and upfront about his feelings for her when they were kids. And she tore him down. Again and again, again and again. She wasn’t nice about it. She didn’t consider how it must feel for him or what courage it took just to be honest about those feelings. Time eroded all of that away, but now this near stranger is dragging it all to the surface. Poor Sasuke.

Poor Naruto.

Naruto doesn’t look upset about it, though. He’s grinning, bottling up a laugh. She wonders if he doesn’t like his world’s Sasuke. Is it like it was for the counterparts of this world, with their bitter rivalry bringing out a mix of hatred? But no, their Naruto thinks of Sasuke as a friend, even now.

“I find him sitting out in the courtyard looking like a broken man. So I’m like, I’ve been there, buddy. I’m going to treat you to a drink. And that bastard can _drink_. I thought he was going to burn a hole through my wallet. We spend the night destroying ourselves at a pub downtown while I give him the ‘plenty of fish’ speech and he flirts with the bartender. And Sasuke flirting? Best thing I ever saw. It’s tragic. It’s truly tragic. I love that asshole. He’s hilarious.”

Naruto’s so distracted by his own story that he’s completely lost track of the original topic, but he looks so happy doing so that Sakura can’t say anything. Listening to him and watching the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and the grin that tugs at his lips involuntarily, she thinks she’s starting to get it. Maybe just a bit. She sees Naruto reminiscing and she sees a close bond behind his words. He really cares about Sasuke. He really, truly does and she’s smiling before she realizes it.

“What about your Sasuke?”

These four words are enough to ground her. She sobers up and sips at her tea, but it’s gone cold. “Ours?”

“Yeah. Where is he? I figure if you’re here then he shouldn’t be too far behind, right?”

“Oh, well…”

Naruto reads her easily. The joviality of his story is cast to the wayside as he folds his hands together. “Is he dead?”

“No! Noth—nothing like that, he’s not…” She trails off, casting her eyes to the open window. “Sasuke’s alive. I know that he is. But he’s no longer… He left.”

“I see.”

Sakura feels him watching her. She’s changed out of uniform but his eyes are on the hitai-ate she wears and the feeling is wrong, like he’s disappointed. Like she made him _be_ disappointed. In her. And maybe, to some degree, in Sasuke.

She feels like she’s let him down and she doesn’t know why.

“Sakura, can I ask you something?”

Sakura rubs her arm and nervously nods. “...Yeah. Go ahead.”

“This is a ninja village. You confirmed that earlier. I saw civilians in town, too, but the village’s primary income is from people in your field, correct?”

“It is,” she says. “We’re hired by people outside of the village to carry out tasks. Sometimes we act as escorts or bodyguards, sometimes couriers. We deal with dangerous situations for people who otherwise can’t. Our highest paying jobs tend to be assassinations and recovery.”

Naruto hums acknowledgement, unsaid thoughts forming behind his eyes. “How young were you when you started training for this?”

“Oh, well…” She has to think. “I entered the academy when I was six, but we didn’t start training with weapons until we were eight.”

“Six and eight,” he nods. “Can I say something without you getting mad? Can you promise me that?”

Sakura isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say and hesitates.“Sure.”

“This whole village is fucked up.”

This from the mouth of the man who has had nothing but the Hokage seat on his mind since childhood.

Naruto kicks back until the front legs of his chair lift off the ground, its back resting against the counters. He’s nothing of the carefree man from this morning. This man cares in all the wrong ways. “Eight when they put weapons into your hands? Is that some kind of _joke_?”

“It’s just how we do things here.”

“Oh, sure. Let’s indoctrinate our kids. Bet you had a lot of classmates who thought it was so cool, too, didn’t you?” He lifts one leg, ankle resting over his knee, and taps an impatient beat into the leg of his pants. He is _angry._ But this Naruto’s anger is a whole different beast from their Naruto’s. This is quiet, like a storm raging beneath the surface of the waves. “If we start young, it won’t be so hard when they start killing people. That it?”

“I—” She shakes herself free of her own anxieties. This isn’t like her. “Listen: it’s not like that. I don’t know what your world is like, but here—it’s dangerous. It’s _always_ been dangerous. We’ve had three shinobi wars in less than a century. So many lives are lost, and we _need_ these skills to move forward in the world. We need them so that if something happens, we can pull through. It’s dangerous here. Children died. So _many_ children died. And—and we did, we had child soldiers, I know that. I know it sounds terrible. The war _was_ terrible. But more would have died otherwise. Hard choices had to be made. They’re still being made. But you don’t know enough about our village to tell us how to run it. You have _no right._ ”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

Sakura blinks. She’s waiting for a backhanded comment or some bitter words on Naruto’s tongue, but his face smooths out and he looks as calm as ever.

He smiles. “I got a little carried away there. But you’re right. I don’t know anything about this place; I shouldn’t go passing judgement.”

“Um.” It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dropped on her. Where does she go from here? “It… it’s okay?”

Naruto stretches and yawns, his chair legs hitting the floor as he leans in. “That wasn’t even what I really wanted to ask you. Sorry. It’s Kakashi. I was hoping you could tell me a little more about him.”

“O-oh, well…” She swallows and recomposes herself. “Why him, though?”

“Oh, well, you see…” Naruto grins. “He’s my brother.”

* * *

Tenzo falls off the roof. He catches himself, of course, and climbs his way back up the shingles with shaky hands. He’s staring into the window from the rooftop of one of the homes across the street from the apartment. Now, Tenzo’s job is _technically_ to keep track of this foreign Naruto’s movements—to make sure the young man stays where he is and, if not, to track him wherever he goes. But Tenzo is only human. And humans, they’re curious creatures.

It’s not his fault that he can lip read.

Sakura slid off her chair at the exact moment that he fell so he doubts that he read those words wrong, but they just don’t make sense. Tenzo was only half paying attention before—there was talk of Sasuke and he wasn’t up for that at the moment—and then there was a tonal shift. Their expressions changed. By the time he started reading again, though—

_“He’s my brother.”_

He had to have heard that wrong.

Tenzo thinks that now is as good a time as any to mind his own business and focus on the parameters of his mission. He shakes his head, slaps his face, and turns away from the apartment. _Although…_

Hm. This Naruto will be hard to track if Tenzo loses sight of him; he doesn’t seem to possess chakra, which is a ridiculous thought in and of itself, so he’ll be a challenge for even sensors. It’s in everyone’s best interest if he watches the young man closely, right?

Tenzo is ashamed when he focuses in on the two through the window again. He really, truly is.

_“—the war. There was no one left to take him in. But our families were always close, and Mom and Dad weren’t going to see Kashi thrown into foster care. You know how it is. Year later, I was born.”_

Tenzo really shouldn’t be prying. He knows that this information will pique Kakashi’s interest, too, though. And Kakashi has a right to know. Really, he’s doing it as a favour to his senpai. To his friend.

So why does he feel so dirty doing it?

 _“I… I don’t know much about him, myself, now that I think about it,”_ Sakura says. _“I mean, I know him. He was my team’s jōnin instructor. He’s always late and comes up with stupid excuses as to why. He likes reading… forget it. He’s nice, and he cares about us a lot, but… I don’t really know much about his personal life. I don’t even think he has one. Kakashi-sensei never talks about himself.”_

_“I see. Thanks anyway.”_

_“Sorry. Wish I could be more helpful. Although…”_

Sakura looks his way and he gets a very bad, no-good feeling. He cloaks himself immediately. She goes over to the window and pokes out her head, calls out his name, and he decides it may be best not to answer.

She sees through him and looks none too impressed, but well. This is his job and he’s on a mission. Naturally, he can’t leave his post.

Sakura slams the window shut and closes the curtains. Like that, he’s shut out.

He probably deserves it.

Things are uneventful throughout the next few hours of his mission. He can’t see nor hear anything that’s going on and it’s only when Sakura leaves that the curtains are drawn again, Naruto staring at the waning threads of light in the sky. There isn’t anything to read now that Naruto’s alone.

For a while, Naruto lies on his bed and stares up at his ceiling. There’s nothing on his face—no joy, no sadness, no anger. Then, slowly, he starts to unravel. He rolls over onto his stomach, pushes his face into his pillow, and screams. He screams and screams until his throat his raw, until he can scream no more. Until his arms go weak. But from here, Tenzo can’t hear a thing.

Naruto throws the pillow at the wall and lies back down on his bed, facing the ceiling, blank-faced and tired.

Tenzo sighs. “Well, that’s one way of dealing with things.”


End file.
